I haven’t been posting, but I have been riding, and it’s just about time to put Jammer in the trailer (along with the usual assortment of hoof boots, tack, blankets, feed, sprays, ointments, breeches, chaps, helmets, sunglasses, trail mix, propane…) and head for the hills.
We’re all set to attempt his first 50 at Eagle Extreme. It’s a desert ride, and we’re expecting warm temperatures for this early in the season. The horses still have a bit of winter coat hanging on, and the day is supposed to get up to mid-80’s. That may slow us down, but it isn’t as though I was planning to burn up the trails anyway. Not on Jam’s first time out.
I have a lot of packing to do between now and Friday, when we’ll leave for ride camp. Preparing for an endurance ride is always a project (10-page packing list, anyone?), but this time I’m out of practice. Can you believe I haven’t done a ride since Consolation’s last 50 at Fandango last May? I’m just about a year — and a lifetime — out from that ride and I am way beyond excited to be back.
Excited in a quiet sort of way. A content sort of way. A way that has learned to be at peace in this moment, because we never know what is coming, but today there is sunrise and coffee on the north deck and horses in the pasture and people who care about us scattered all across this world.
Back in December, when there was more darkness than sun, I posted this L’Amour quote: “There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.”
It was true.
I knew it at the time, but it’s nice to be on the other side.
No, I haven’t been posting. But I have been riding. And living. Learning. Exploring. I have taken up new sports (because I have time for THAT, right?) and enjoyed friends and worked hard and met someone special who can both understand my being and broaden it.
Fifty miles on the back of a horse under the Idaho sun sounds like a perfect place to contemplate it all. To let the gratitude sink in. Because that is what I feel.
Those mugs and hats and t-shirts have it right, you know. Life is good.
See you on the trail!